


Hey, my love

by Nanerich



Series: song fics [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Emotional Hurt, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Song Lyrics, Song fic, post Bucky falling, stroll through memory lane, way too much of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22104097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanerich/pseuds/Nanerich
Summary: Hey, my loveI buried you a month or two agoI keep thinking that you're standing on my floorThat you're waiting there for me***Steve and Bucky through the years. Beautiful memories that are now, that Bucky is lying dead at the bottom of a canyon, more painful than almost dying for twenty years.***Song is 'Talia' by King Princess
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: song fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591039
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Hey, my love

**Hey, my love**

**I buried you a month or two ago**

**I keep thinking that you're standing on my floor**

**That you're waiting there for me**

***

“You punk alright?”

Steve glanced up to see an outstretched hand and he let the stranger pull him to his feet.

“Thanks”, he mumbled. He lost the fight. Again.

“Come on.” The other boy pulled Steve behind him and all but pushed him on the steps of the school. “You're good.”

“Right”, Steve scoffed. It was only the third time this week, Steve had found himself seated on his behind, after some bully didn't get the meaning of simple personal boundaries and being a decent person.

“I mean it”, the other boy assured him. “You got a few good punches in. I got just one question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why the hell would you fight that guy? He's easily triple your size and his fist has about the same size as your head.” He looked at Steve the same way his Mum always did, a mixture of concern and exasperation.

“He's a bully”, Steve just shrugged.

“Yeah, I know. But he won't stop bullying, just cause some scrawny punk tries to punch him in the face.”

“You sound like my Ma...”

“And she sounds like a poor woman, having to deal with you getting yourself beat up. But well, now I'm looking out for you.”

“Huh?” Steve looked at the other guy. Dark hair and eyes and a smile from ear to ear, showing where one of his front teeth had fallen out.

He just shrugged and got up. “I'm your new best friend and look after you from now on. You punk.”

“You're a jerk”, Steve shot back, but the smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, you have no idea... Come on, I'll walk you home.”

Back home, his Mum was all over him. “Steven Grant Rogers, how often do I need to tell you, not to get into fights!”, she tutted, as she cleaned his face up.

“But he was a bully!”

“And you're a sick kid”, Sarah sighed and cupped his face. “I'm just worried that one of these days you're gonna get hurt real badly.”

“Well, I have a new best friend now”, Steve grinned proudly. “He says he'll look out for me.”

“That is wonderful. Who is he?”

“He and his family just moved here from Indiana, they actually live just down the street.”

“And what's this young man's name?”

Huh. Steve stilled as realization hit that he and his new best friend have skipped over one quite important detail... “No idea... I'll ask him tomorrow in school.”

“You do that”, Sarah laughed. “Until then, I got new pencils and there is this empty space just by the fridge...”

***

**If I drink enough**

**I can taste your lipstick I can lay down next to you**

**but it's all in my head**

**If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you**

***

“JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES!”

The grin dropped from Bucky's face and in one quick motion he dove behind Steve's bed and probably somewhere underneath it. He had barely disappeared, when the door opened and Mr Barnes stormed inside.

“Steve, where is my son?”

“I don't see him”, he just shrugged.

“That wasn't my question and you know it. But since I don't feel like searching through your room, you can tell that young man that he is in deep trouble, and can kiss his allowance for the next week goodbye.”

“That's not fair!”, Bucky protested as he appeared from behind the bed again. “It wasn't even my fault, it was all on Becca!”

“Yes, I am sure that you sister burned her own doll's hair.”

Buck just shot a skew grin back at his dad.

“Right then”, Mr Barnes cleared his throat. “There are two options, I'm feeling gracious today so you can choose. You can either pay for the repairs or you'll be kept from Steve for the next month.”

“WHA...” Both boys stared at the man with wide open eyes. Bucky, being kept away from Steve? They'd be dead within a week!

“Fine, I'll pay for Becca's stupid doll”, he grumbled and, his head hung low, he trudged towards his father. “I'm sorry, sir.”

“I know you are. Now, you're coming home with me, you have a sister to apologize to and we're not done talking yet.”

Ouch. Steve knew exactly what 'talking' referred to, as did Bucky, who flinched and hid his hands behind his back.

“Have a nice evening, Steve”, Mr Barnes greeted him and walked out the door. He had his arm around Bucky's shoulder to make sure that the boy wouldn't run off. Buck only shot Steve a small smile, before following his Dad.

.

“Morn, punk”, Bucky greeted him, as they walked to school together.

“Hey, jerk”, Steve shot back. “You alright?”

“Yeah”, Buck waved it off, “got only two with the ruler and spend the entire evening alone in my bedroom to do some quiet contemplation.”

“Oh?” Steve grinned up at his friend. “And what did you quietly contemplate?”

“That you're a punk.” With his arm around Steve's shoulder, the two boys disappeared in the school building.

***

**I can see you dancing, I can lay down next to you**

**At the foot of my bed**

**If I drink enough**

**I can taste your lipstick I can lay down next to you**

**but it's all in my head**

**If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you**

***

“I brought you soup!” Steve hadn't even realized that his bedroom door had opened, when Buck stood right in front of his bed, a steaming bowl in his hands. “My Mum made it, with potatoes and cabbage.”

“I'm not hungry. And you shouldn't be here or you'll get sick”, Steve sighed, before a coughing fit took him.

“Right”, Bucky rolled his eyes, clearly to hide his worry, and helped Steve to sit up. “I've been around your viruses and germs and shit for about eight years. I think I'm immune to all things Steve by now.”

“'Cause that's how it works...”

“At least that's how friendship works”, Buck made clear, sat himself opposite Steve on his creaky bed and put the bowl of soup in his lap. “I will feed you, so don't test me, punk.”

“Fine”, Steve shrugged and opened his mouth.

After a moment of shocked and surprised silence, Bucky laughed so hard, he almost dropped the bowl. “You're impossible!”, he giggled, but complied and fed Steve his soup.

“You know, if you don't get that job at Mr Johnson's workshop, you could go into nursing”, Steve grinned, once he felt like he was filled to the brim.

“If all my patients are as horrible as you, I will have to be send to the asylum.”

“Don't worry, I'd visit you.”

“And bring me a file, so I can escape?”

“I'll bake it into a nice cake”, Steve assured him.

“Oh god.” Buck's face dropped at the pure implication of Steve in the kitchen. “You'll burn the house down!”

“Ha, ha”, Steve deadpanned, before another coughing fit took him

“Did you see the doctor already today?” Sometimes Steve was really surprised by how easy Bucky could switch from teasing to concern and genuine worry.

Since the words were stuck somewhere in his throat, Steve just nodded.

“And?”

Steve knew exactly what Bucky was aiming for, but he didn't want to worry him, so he just shrugged.

“Steven Grant Rogers, I know exactly when you're lying, so I swear to God, tell me what the doctor said, or I'll tell Ruthie that you're in love with Ms Nelson.”

Oh, come on! With a groan, Steve just fell back on the bed. Whatever you told Bucky's sister Ruth at breakfast was common knowledge by lunchtime. And if he told her that Steve was in love with their Mathematics teacher... That would be social murder.

“Fine...” He turned his face just enough, so he didn't have to look at Bucky. “20:80.”

“Shit.”

When the doctor told him earlier today, Steve just wanted to cry. He's never had such bad chances at making it through the night and he had never before been that scared to close his eyes.

“Well then.” Bucky put the soup away and made himself comfortable next to Steve on the bed. “What do you want to do?”

“Not die...”

“That's obvious”, Buck shot back, trying – and failing – to mask his fear. “But I mean right now. I can tell you about school, I could read to you, if you want.”

“Just 'cause you got an A in reading...” Even though it hurt, Steve couldn't help his eyeroll. If he weren't overtaken by coughing fits, he too would have an A in reading.

“I can also sing to you!”

Oh, heaven's no. Steve's face just dropped and Buck started laughing. “I know, I know... Torturing cats sounds nicer than my singing. I am more of a dancer after all.” He flailed his arms a little, as if he were guiding a girl over the dance floor.

In the end he did start reading Sherlock Holmes, until Steve's tiredness won.

“Love you, jerk”, he whispered, just before sleep took him.

“Love you too, punk.”

And then it went dark.

.

Steve opened his eyes to his Mum by his bedside and Buck, lying half on top of him, snoring. And that not just softly.

“Morning, love”, his Mum smiled.

“Hey, Ma.” He made it through another night, he beat the odds again.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired”, Steve mumbled and gently squeezed his Mum's hand.

“That I believe. It's ok to fall asleep again, me and James are both here to look after you.”

“Ok.” He even managed a weak smile as he closed his eyes again. Still deep asleep, Buck scooted a little closer against Steve and held tightly onto the smaller boy.

Yeah, he'd be just alright here.

***

**I can see your dancing, I can lay down next to you**

**At the foot of my bed**

**If I drink enough**

**I can taste your lipstick, I can lay down next to you**

**But it's all in my head**

**If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you**

***

“It is with a heavy heart that we say goodbye to Sarah Rogers, a formidable woman, wife and mother. It was her mission in life to save others, no matter what the consequences for her own life. This spirit, the fighting for the weakest amongst us, is how we will remember her.”

Steve sat out on the fire escape, staring out over the busy street underneath him. He didn't even bother to try and fight the tears that made their way down his cheek.

She had fought for the longest time against the illness. What made everything worse was that Steve couldn't get to her, not really at least. With his non-existent immune system, he was forced to stay behind glass windows, unable to hold her hand like she had done for him time and time again. After she was there for him all his 18 sick and almost dying years, he couldn't be there the one time she needed him.

He tucked his knees closely against his chest, as the wind picked up. “You'll catch your death”, she'd say, “just come inside, before the coughing starts again.” If he closed his eyes, Steve could almost hear her say it.

“You'll catch your death.”

That wasn't his Mum. He didn't need to look up though, to know that it was Bucky who climbed out to him. However, instead of trying to talk Steve into climbing back inside and have a warming cup of tea, Buck wrapped his arm around his shoulder and pulled Steve in.

They just sat in silence and for the first time in days, maybe even weeks, Steve didn't feel like the world was gonna come crushing down on him if he wasn't strong for everyone around him. With Buck, he didn't need to be strong, he could be taken care of instead.

***

**If I drink enough**

**I can taste your lipstick I can lay down next to you**

**but it's all in my head**

**If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you**

*******

“I still can't believe that that scrawny little punk that never backed away from a fight, is now America's new favourite hero”, Bucky chuckled as they sat around the fire.

“Trust me, I can't believe it myself”, Steve laughed, before emptying his cup.

“Ma would be really proud”, Buck eventually smiled. “She always fought for the little ones and now her little boy's following in her foot steps.”

“She raised me right. Both of us”, he added.

“Yeah...”

They were silent for a while, just staring into the flames, as memories of years long ago passed back through Steve's mind.

“You know”, he broke the silence, “when we first met, Ma was so confused about some kid from Indiana just picking up random boys from the street.”

“In her defence, it's exactly what I did”, Buck laughed.

“Why, though?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you pick me? What, about that breathless, dirty, sick, little beat-up loser, screamed: I need to look out for him now?”

“Exactly that”, Buck shrugged, “you were a breathless, dirty, sick, little, beat-up loser. Someone had to look out for you. But just to make one thing perfectly clear.” Buck locked eyes with him and the warm nostalgia in his expression made way for something almost scolding. “Just because you are now a super human, doesn't mean I have to let you do all sort of crazy shit, because that, my friend, is never gonna happen.”

“Yes, Ma”, Steve moaned and rolled his eyes, before the grin broke through.

“Thank you”, Buck grinned back, “for that wonderful compliment. If I manage to be half the person that Sarah Rogers was...”

“You already are”, Steve made clear. “At least to me.”

“Which is more than enough”, Buck smiled back and pulled Steve into a hug. “Love you, punk.”

“Love you, too, jerk.”

***

**If I drink enough**

**I can taste your lipstick I can lay down next to you**

**but it's all in my head**

**If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you**

***

The loud bang of the empty bottle, as it shattered on the bare wall, echoed through the apartment. It was a little solace that the pieces flew all through the room, glittering ever so slightly in the lamp's glow.

But Steve didn't give a fuck about the aesthetics.

What he did give a fuck about, was the fact that he still didn't feel anything.

Four bottles. Four bottles of whiskey now lay broken on the ground and Steve didn't even feel the slightest tinge of being drunk. He could have had water and the result'd be the same: He was sitting in his barren room, feeling heartbroken and so out of place, and he couldn't even drown his sorrows in alcohol.

Didn't mean that Steve would stop trying.

Maybe whiskey bottle no five, which he opened and took a generous sip from, would change something.  
Maybe whiskey bottle no five would grant him the gentle buzz, that he was craving.  
Maybe whiskey bottle no five would offer the light-headedness that would help Steve relax.  
Maybe whiskey bottle no five would allow Steve to just close his eyes, let the alcohol do its job and take him into dreamless sleeps.  
Maybe whiskey bottle no five would mush his brain enough for Steve to stop seeing Bucky's face, a grimace of fear and panic, as he fell.  
Maybe whiskey bottle no five would be intoxicating enough for Steve to forget, even if only for five minutes.  
  


Or maybe, whiskey bottle no five would be the one to let Steve finally wake up next to Buck again.

***

**Hey, my love**

**I buried you a month or two ago**

**I keep thinking that you're standing on my floor**

**That you're waiting there for me**

**But it's all in my head**

**If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you**


End file.
